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8.
He hadn't even wanted to visit his grandparents. His grandma smelled funny and always pinched his cheeks. Edward didn't like her, even though she always gave him candy. He didn't like his grandfather either; he was so strict and angry, always commenting on how Edward behaved…although Edward did his very best to be a good boy.
And he didn't like their house either. It was too big; your footsteps echoed when you walked and you were never allowed to make any noise or run along the long corridors. In spite of the candy, both his grandparents were cold people, living in a cold, big house.
In that moment, as he waited for his mother and father to finish saying goodbye to them, he almost envied his sister. She'd been sick all night and therefore had been allowed to stay at home with their nanny while a vehemently protesting Edward had been strapped securely into the backseat as his parents schlepped him out of the city and onto the road leading towards the Masens' imposing upstate retreat.
He was tired; a whole day of being on his best behavior had completely worn him out. And after being a good, quiet boy all day, he couldn't even find joy in the little specks of snow falling from the sky as they walked out towards the car. The minute his mother strapped him into the backseat again, kissing his head as she told him how proud she was of him, he was out like a light.
The next thing he knew, there were screeching tires; his mom cried out as the still sleepy Edward caught a flash of a passing deer as the car started to spin on the slippery road.
The car plunged downward as it crashed through the barrier and into the deep before landing with a heartbreaking crush.
There was nothing, but blackness.
Then pain.
Edward cried, waking up to find it hadn't been a nightmare. He couldn't move. He couldn't see. His hand was wet and he knew it was blood coming out of him somewhere.
"Mom?" His throat constricted as panicked sobs started to work their way out of his chest. More pain. "Dad?"
It seemed like forever that he was alone, but then he could hear a low voice. Broken. "E-Edward? Honey? Are you okay?"
No, he wasn't, but he had to be a brave boy for his mom. He couldn't see her but he knew she needed him. "My head hurts," he answered, "What happened, Mommy? Is Daddy okay?"
"I love you…Edward," his mother spoke.
And then it was quiet.
Shocked out of his bad dream, Edward sat up rigidly, sweat dampening his skin and sticking his hair to his forehead as he tried to slow his breathing. Closing his yes, he leaned back again. He wasn't going to close his eyes again because he knew it would happen all over again. He'd see it all over again.
Watch them die again.
Scratching the scruff on his chin, he set his head against the headboard as slowly but surely the chill of the night air brought his heartbeat back to normal and his senses to the present. Apparently the downside to being out of jail was that with the lack of noises coming from the other inmates, his sleep was deep enough for the nightmares to return.
That was not a good thing.
Immediately, his newly calmed senses were drawn to the pair of jeans that he'd slung over a chair earlier that night. Or more accurately: the little packet stuck inside one of the pockets.
James had said they were untraceable…that the standard drug testing he would have to undergo as part of his parole wouldn't pick them up.
But still…did he really want to go back down that road?
Yes, said a significant part of him.
No.
With the memory of his mother so fresh on his mind, he couldn't bring himself to wash her away with a dose of Special K, not for all the oblivion in the world.
Not that the thought had stopped him before.
Edward just didn't want to risk it. He'd only just gotten out and with his life still so precariously up in the air, taking chances with shit he knew nothing about just didn't seem like the greatest idea in the world. Again, that hadn't stopped him before, though this time it was different. Because he was staying with his sister and he could just as easily drag her and the children down with him if he fell.
And that was something he'd never wanted to risk.
He knew he was probably the worst kind of excuse for a human being for all the pain he had already caused in his miserable existence. As little as he cared about them, he'd proved a complete disappointment to his grandparents as he'd made the final years of their life a lot harder than he should have. He fucked groupies just because they were there, never cared about what he was doing beyond getting a quick fuck to satisfy his own needs.
Even the one he'd ended up in jail for…
Seeing her face plastered all over the news he'd felt like such an idiot for not seeing how young she was but, then again, if he would have noticed it, would that have stopped him? He liked to think it would have but…he knew himself. Edward had just gotten off stage; the high of performing soon elongated by the high of a few lines of coke. Just like always, there'd been drugs and alcohol aplenty backstage and, because he didn't want to be a complete bastard and offer nothing in return to the girls who so willingly offered up their bodies, he'd shared. He didn't think anything of it.
He never did.
All he thought about was himself…until he was forced to face the consequences of his own ego.
And yet that little packet of pills still taunted him.
Jumping out of his bed, he took two steps towards his pants, only to come to a sudden stop. His hands lodged into his hair as he let out a frustrated growl.
He wanted it.
He didn't want to want it.
When he'd been released from prison, only a couple of days ago, his mind had been set on getting his life back sooner rather than later.
Back to the groupies.
Back to the drugs.
Back to not giving a fuck.
Hearing Aro threaten to take his way his music, though, had hit home. And the longer he thought about it, the more he knew he had to change shit if he wanted to keep doing the only thing he lived for.
Get away. Now! Quickly donning a t-shirt and some sweatpants, he slid into his shoes, carefully avoiding the area where his jeans hung. Get out of here! Throwing the doors open he stepped out into the cool, early morning air. The deserted beach greeted him as his footsteps sped into a jog as he jumped off the deck and into the sand.
Free.
Away from temptation.
For the longest time, Edward just ran; the strain of pushing his feet forward in the loose sand pulled his mind away from the dangerous temptations that had occupied it and the freshness of the sea breeze blew away the remnants of his nightmare.
After a while, though, he knew he had to get back.
Running had served to clear his mind of the most prominent of the dangers that had plagued it. In the light of morning, he knew the dream was a sign that his mind had been disturbed when he'd gone to bed; the usual result of dipping into the pool of emotions he only dared to enter whenever he was writing music.
The drugs…they'd been a bad idea. It had seemed logical the other night, when his backup guitarist and main supplier had called him up to commiserate on Edward's forced exile from the city and its temptations and asked if there was anything he needed. He'd been agitated after his fight with Carlisle and in need of something to dull his mind. That, and the nanny had started to get to his head and God only knew she was a distraction he didn't need in his life. He'd wanted to escape, and since the conditions of his parole had made a physical escape impossible, it would have to be a mental one. Tough that road was also filled with court-ordered potholes.
No, the drugs had been a dreadful scheme; he knew that, even if his mind truly had trouble catching up with reality.
His feet dragged on his way back and he wished he'd had the presence of mind to bring a bottle of water; the sweat dripping from his hair in steady drops as his breathing slowly returned to normal. The last remnants of night had given way to daylight while he'd been running, the seagulls began screeching above him as a few more joggers started to appear on the horizon.
It was when he neared the house, though, that he met with the greatest temptation of all. She'd been fresh on his mind the previous evening, when he'd compose one of the best songs he'd ever created. She was a drug, too, and one much more dangerous than the Ketamine his friend had supplied him with. Resting on her stomach, much the same as she had the last time he encountered her in the dunes, she was pure temptation poured into the most bewitching form.
Bella.
Even her name sounded pretty and innocent, rolling off his tongue like a one-word poem. While he could see that her life had been spiked by pain—the heavy kind of pain that leaves a mark on you—he could also see that she was the complete polar opposite to the world he lived in; the world of sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. She was proud parents, healthy living and sensible choices..She would never end up in jail or use another human being just as a means to an end. Her mind wasn't so weighed down by regret that she needed drugs to simply be able to live.
No, she was everything a parent could wish for after bringing a child into the world.
And looking at her, unaware of the sick fuck who was watching at her, he couldn't help but wonder what that kind of life was like.
Thoughts?